Broken Justice

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Broken Justice Page 21

by Ralph Gibbs


  “Always nice to be recognized,” Wade said as he shut the door, locking Matthew inside.

  CHAPTER 24

  Danica slowly came awake. Her head pounded, and her ears rang with such intensity that it threatened to drive her insane. On top of that, every muscle in her body spasmed in response to each painful throb that shot through her brain. It felt as if her head was split from the bridge of her nose to the back of her neck. She imagined her brain swollen to the point that large sections of gray matter were jutting out through her cracked skull making her look like a lobster tail ready to be slathered with salted garlic butter and thrown on the grill. She knew any movement would be painful, so instead, she remained still trying to gain an equilibrium with herself and figure out what hell happened.

  One minute she was in the parking lot of the Food Mart and then nothing. Did she have a relapse? There was talk early on that once you recovered from the plague, you were effectively immune. It was one reason the government was confident a vaccine would be effective. Maybe she was infected with a different disease. For all she knew, she had cancer, and it was choosing now to manifest symptoms. Wouldn’t that be her luck? Survive the plague, just to die of cancer. It made her wonder how many people would now die of cancer because it wasn’t detected early. Even if it caught early, was there an effective treatment in this new primitive world? How valuable were doctors going to be? She and Matthew had just been talking about—

  Danica’s eyes shot open, and she chided herself for losing focus. Where was Matthew? She tried to sit up and then started to panic when she realized she couldn’t move.

  “Don’t,” her father had told her when she was eleven years old. “Panic will get you killed.” It started as a general discussion on what to do when, in the line of duty, a gunman took her to use as a human shield. This was back before she had realized she was gay, and she still wanted to make her father proud by being a cop.

  “Under no circumstances does your partner give up his gun,” he said sternly. “That’s what you keep telling him. If the situation is reversed, you don’t give up your gun. Ever! I don’t care if he has been your partner for ten years and you’ve been sleeping with him for nine. You know what that means?” She nodded. He sighed, thankful that he didn’t have to give the talk. “Of course, you do; you have the Internet.” He sighed again regretting the lost innocence of future generations and then went back to the topic at hand. “You don’t give up your gun. Understand?” She nodded again.

  Afterward, he delved into kidnappings. This was what he really wanted to talk about. A month earlier, a young girl had disappeared from her front yard. Her nude body found just five miles from their house. The lab had yet to confirm the girl had been sexually assaulted, but everyone figured it was a foregone conclusion. Kidnappings were rarely about ransom anymore.

  “Whether you’re taken hostage or kidnapped, you will want to panic, no help for it,” her father had said sitting beside her in the garage. Both had just finished a vigorous workout, and she was breathing heavily sitting on the weight bench, wiping sweat from her face with a gray towel. “It’s human nature. But that nature will get you killed. Don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing wrong with being scared; that’s human nature too. Never be ashamed of your fear.” He held up a finger and tapped her nose. “But you can’t let panic and fear control you. If it does, you might as well shoot yourself in the head because you won’t be able to think, and if you can’t think, you’re doomed. Get that fear under control. Concentrate on breathing. Let’s practice. Sit up straight.” She obeyed. “Breath in, concentrate and center yourself. Again. One more time.

  “Kidnappings are a special situation,” her father said as she continued to breathe in and out. “Thank of it as a bear attack.” She stopped and looked at him. He laughed. “Most people will tell you that when a bear attacks, it’s usually because you startled it or it’s defending its cubs. Universally, they advise you to play dead because if it thinks you’re no longer a threat, it will leave. But—and this is a big but—if the attack doesn’t stop, it means it’s a predatory attack, and the bear is probably going to eat you. In that case, they tell you it’s time to fight back as hard as you can. Unfortunately, by the time you realize it’s a predatory attack, nothing short of direct intervention from God will save you. The problem is, there’s no way to tell the difference between a defensive attack and eat-you attack. That’s why I always carry a gun when I’m hiking. I plan to assume they’re all hunger related if I’m attacked by a bear.

  “With a kidnapping, the advice is usually the same . . . play dead.” Danica gave him a puzzled look, and he laughed. “I don’t really mean play dead. I just mean it’s suggested you cooperate with your kidnapper. Don’t give him an excuse to kill you. Do exactly what they tell you to do, and you’ll be okay. Well, that’s bullshit. South of the border, I’d say that’s good advice as long as you aren’t part of the drug trade. Down there, kidnapping is a business, and it’s run like one. They get paid; they let you go. Bad for business otherwise. In the United States, it’s different, unless you’re rich, and we aren’t.

  “So, it’s best to assume you are going to be murdered. Even in the case of ransom, it’s more likely they will kill you. If it’s not for money, then they are going to assault you sexually. . . And then kill you. Fight from the moment the attack happens and every minute afterward. Look for any and every opportunity to escape. Usually, your best opportunity is early on when things are fluid. The longer you are a prisoner, the less chance there is of escaping. In either case, remember, fear isn’t your enemy; panic is.”

  He walked over to his workbench, came back and handed her a handcuff key. “Pry up a portion of the inside of your shoe and squirrel this away. Never go anywhere without it. If you’re ever kidnapped, and they handcuff you, you can use this to escape. Assess your situation and then determine what you need to do next. Take it one problem at a time.”

  “What’s your situation?” she heard her father ask her.

  It took a few moments for her vision to clear, and she had to blink her eyes to adjust to the sunlight. Good. Sunlight meant she wasn’t out long. Most likely, only a few minutes. She tried to move her arms and, when she failed, realized her hands were tied behind her with what felt like zip ties. Her legs were tied as well. Shit, so much for her father’s gift. At least she had her shoes.

  Danica looked around and discovered she was in what looked like a single room apartment but, by the generic décor, more likely a hotel room. There was an unmade king-size bed a few feet from her, a long brown table nearly the length of the room against the wall to her right with a large flat-screen television sitting on top. The television was on, but there was no signal; not even the emergency broadcast.

  “Is there anything you can use to cut yourself free?” her father asked her. There wasn’t anything in her field of vision, but she had her shoes and shoelaces, so the answer was yes. She rolled herself over to see what was behind her and an icy chill ran down her spine as Wade came into view. He was sitting on a turned-around chair watching her and holding her father’s pistol casually across the back of it. Despite her father’s warning, she started to panic.

  “That was impressive,” he said, genuinely sounding as if he were. “I’m not an expert at holding people captive, seeing as you’re my third, but I’m willing to bet that most people coming awake like you did would have screamed for help. Or just start screaming. My wife did. Or would have if not for the gag. You, on the other hand, were like an ice queen. I could literally see the gears grinding in your head trying to figure a way out. I’ll have to watch myself around you.” He stood up and moved toward her. Terrified, she instinctively tried to scramble away.

  “Stop it,” Wade said. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just going to make it so we can have a conversation.” He shoved the gun into his waist, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her upright. When she was sitting up, she couldn’t help but notice her face was mere inches from his crotc
h. Was this the start of the sexual assault? She mentally promised herself that if he pulled that out, he would pull back a nub. When she didn’t look like she would topple over, he walked back to the chair and sat down.

  “See, I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Is that what you told Erica?” Danica said with a hint of acid in her voice.

  “No, I told her to be nice to Donavan. She chose not to follow that advice.”

  “What? She didn’t enjoy being raped, so you killed them both,” Danica hissed.

  “I didn’t kill either of them. Donavan killed Erica, and in a fitting bit of justice, pun intended, you killed Donavan.”

  “Bullshit,” she spit.

  Wade laughed. “It’s true.” Wade left his seat and walked to the small kitchenette behind him. He pulled a bottle of water from a plastic case on the far side of the counter and twisted off the top. He walked over to her and put it to her lips. She resisted. He took a swing to show her it was safe and then held it back to her lips. She took a small sip at first and then a deeper one.

  “I told her to be nice to him,” he said, sitting back down. “Granted, that meant having a lot of sex with him, and there was a lot of sex—”

  “Rape, you mean.”

  “Consensual, rape, sex, lovemaking, call it whatever you want. I do not understand why women get so hung up on sex. It’s not that big a fucking deal. It’s just a means to an end. It’s a tool like anything else. Had she acted like she enjoyed it; she might have been able to use it to pry a wedge between us. I don’t think that kid ever had a day’s love in his life. All I did was suck him off once, tell him he was strong and handsome, and he was like putty in my hands. Instead, Erica got emotional, which turned Donavan on even more. That boy was useful but sick.” Danica was about to say something about him and Donavan being two peas in a pod, but Wade continued. “She made him mad, which didn’t take much, and in his rage, he killed her. And then you killed him.”

  “How?”

  “You shot him . . . several times.”

  “I don’t believe you. I saw the bodies you left out for display.”

  “I’ll own up to that. Not sure why I did that. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Seems stupid now. Of course, in my defense, I thought you were dead.” When she said nothing, he continued. “So, you don’t remember shooting Donavan.” She shook her head. “How rich. Your first kill and you don’t remember.” He shrugged. “To be honest, I have no idea what happened. I sent him over there to take your meds and guns, but a few minutes later, I hear shots, and he comes running outside, stumbles over to the curb where you found him, calls out for his mommy and dies.”

  Was it true? Did she kill Donavan? She didn’t remember, but there was a lot she didn’t remember when she was sick. She had a vague memory of a nightmare, but not what it was about or even if it really was a nightmare or her being scared, she was going to die and thinking it was a nightmare. It explained why Wade had come for her without a gun.

  “And your wife?”

  “Yeah, I’ll own up to that one too. However, I was making a point. I needed to show Erica what would happen to Matthew if she didn’t follow the rules. Donavan was going to kill her, anyway. That boy had certain appetites, and I can tell you it wasn’t going to be pretty. I did my wife a favor.”

  “Yeah, I saw how much of a favor you did for her. Where is Matthew?” She braced herself for the answer.

  “No idea. I don’t need to be burdened with a blind kid.

  “What did you do with him?” she asked, nearly pleading.

  “Nothing. The last I saw of him he was in the back seat of the cruiser, safe and sound.”

  “You left him in the cruiser,” Danica said in horror. “You son of a bitch, he’ll cook to death in there.”

  “I left the window cracked,” he said in a mocking tone. Danica started to struggle and tried to break herself free. She needed to get to Matthew before he died if it wasn’t already too late.

  “Stop,” Wade said. “You’ll just hurt yourself. Those are police-issue flex cuffs. The irony is I found them in the trunk of your cruiser. Those are not your run-of-the-mill zip ties. Took me a few minutes to figure out how to put them on.”

  Wade was correct. The newer flex cuffs the police were using were almost as effective as real cuffs. With the older flex cuffs, you zip-tied both wrists together and then zip-tied the ties together. The new flex cuffs were double looped so they would slip over both wrists at the same time. It was a variation of the triple cuff method, except there was no play between the wrists and were thicker and wider, rendering them nearly impossible to snap.

  Not heeding his words, Danica continued to struggle.

  “I said stop or—”

  “Or what?” she screamed at him. “You’ll kill me? If you’re going to kill me just do it already. I’m bored with you. And if you think you’re going to rape me. . .” She laughed. “Good luck, you will need it.” She snapped her teeth together in a threat of what was to come.

  “Like I said, I don’t give a shit about sex. That was Donavan’s thing. He wanted to be known as the nipple cannibal or something equally idiotic. For me, sex is a means to an end. But to answer your question, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m going to do with you. Frankly, I never expected to see you again. So, imagine my surprise when I went looking for food and spotted your cruiser. If you had been in another car, I would have avoided you like the plague. But when I saw the cruiser, I just had to know if it was you. And it was. There’s nothing in that grocery store, by the way, a few odds and ends here and there but nothing edible.

  “I was after the propane.” He nodded as if she had just answered the question he was about to ask.

  “I didn’t think of that,” he said in a tone of admiration. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered if I had. It’s not like I have bolt cutters.”

  “There are bolt cutters in cruiser’s trunk,” she said, mentally willing him to go look for them.

  “I didn’t see them.”

  “They’re under the bullet-proof vest on the left side, near the back,” she said, purposely letting him know about the Kevlar vest.

  He frowned. “I’m betting there are a lot of things you know that I haven’t thought of. Maybe it’ll be best to keep you around as a survivalist advisor.”

  “Go screw yourself.”

  “Oh, come now. I eat; you eat. “I starve; you starve. Because I can promise you, I’ll eat before you do, so it’ll be in your best interest to help me. You have to know where I can find food and weapons.” He pulled the pistol from his waist and looked at it wistfully. “I think I heard once that the United States has more than triple the number of guns than the population.” For the first time, Wade looked angry. He turned and cocked his head as if disgusted with himself.

  “Listen, Danica, all this shit between you and me aside, people might think I’m crazy, and by the old society standards maybe I am, but let me tell you. Since running off, I’ve seen things that will make your short hairs straighten. I’ve almost been killed twice. The second asshole had a fucking machine gun. A machine gun! One of those short-barreled ones.”

  “An Uzi?”

  “I wouldn’t know an Uzi from a spork. Look, full disclosure—”

  “Is this where you tell me all about your evil master plan, because I’ve seen this movie and, full disclosure, it doesn’t end well for you,” she said, mockingly.

  “No master plans. Just some honesty. Donavan and I raped and murdered my wife. He did it because he’s a sick bastard. I did it because I wanted out of the marriage. I figured I’d let him have his way with her, kill him and claim self-defense. He was a convicted sex offender, after all. I collect the insurance, find another rich, pliable wife, and go on to live the life I want. But then the plague threw me a curveball, and all that changed. Now I just want to survive, and that means guns, food, and pills. In that order. My guess is both those commodities are going to be the new currency in this fucke
d up world.”

  “And doctors,” she added.

  “What?” he asked, surprised.

  “Doctors. Doctors are going to be in high demand.” She could see he was about to ask why and almost laughed that he didn’t already know the answer. “Can you tell the difference between a mole and skin cancer?” He looked like he was rethinking his strategy. “There are a whole host of diseases out there that take different meds. And if you get shot . . . again. . . who will pull the bullet out and fix you up?”

  “Good point.”

  “Pills will be good, but not for defense against the plague. A fat lot of good pills did for me.”

  “I don’t know; I didn’t catch the plague,” he said. “Maybe it was the pills; maybe it wasn’t. I have no idea but better safe than sorry. That’s why I sent Donavan over. At the time, I didn’t care if he raped you, killed you or both. It probably would have been both. Turns out, it was good for me you killed him.”

  “And then you came over hoping to sell me to the highest bidder.”

  “True,” he admitted. “But that was before I knew what it was like out here.” He pointed at the hotel room window. “There are some crazy fucking people out there, and that coming from me is saying something. I don’t have the skills to survive in this new society yet. If I tried to sell you, the sort of people that would buy you are the sort of people that would just as likely kill me and take you, anyway. Of course, if I just held you, I’d have to worry every minute about you escaping and killing me in my sleep. I’d never get a moment’s rest with you as my prisoner.”

  “Sucks to be you,” she said. At the same time, she realized he was telling her, in his own way, that if they didn’t strike some kind of accord, he would kill her.

  “You know, I’m still not fully recovered from you shooting me. Lucky for me, it went right through my shoulder. All I really had to do was stop the bleeding, and that wasn’t easy. I ended up having to burn the wound closed.” He turned and pointed behind him. “I started a small fire in the sink and then put one of the hot sticks in the wound. Not once, but twice. Once in the front and once in the back. It took me almost half an hour to get the stick in the hole in my back. I can assure you; it was not a pleasant experience. I passed out from the pain. Fucking woke up with my pants on fire.” He pointed down to his inner thigh. “I have second-degree burns from my knee to my ankle. If you wanted revenge for Erica, consider that your revenge.” She just looked at him, waiting for him to pitch the offer she knew was coming. “None of my wounds have completely healed. Meaning I can’t fight worth a shit, so I need more weapons, and I know you have more at your house.”

 

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